


I Just Want Your Extra Time And Your .....

by BazzyBelle



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Baz works in publishing, Bisexual Simon Snow, I've joined the dark side, M/M, Mutual Pining, My First Smut, Non-magical AU, Sexting, Simon is a professional sexter, Smut, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Bad at Feelings, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, and plenty of wanking, and there's some wanking, antagonists to friends to lovers, because how else would I get the nerve to post a smut fic, birthday fic, but he hates his stupid job, but simon annoys the fuck out of baz, heard ya'll got cookies, jk there's quite a bit of wanking, mentions cookies, not really enemies, so is simon, texing fic, this fic has both
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23145454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazzyBelle/pseuds/BazzyBelle
Summary: They say you find love when you least expect it. Once you've stopped trying to look for it, it just happens to come barreling your way.For some, it's in the form of a beautifully awkward meet-cute. For others, it comes with the realization that your best friend is the love of your life.Neither was the case for Baz Pitch. He wasn't expecting to find anything of the sort when he started receiving overly flirtatious text messages out of the blue. He's a busy man and doesn't have time for these sorts of shenanigans. And besides, it's better to stay closed off than risk getting hurt, right?For Simon Snow, he couldn't afford to fall in love. He was simply doing a job that he was being paid to do. And as much as he found the bloke on the other side of the messages to be an annoying, pompous git, it was a job nonetheless.But life is funny like that. And sometimes you just gotta go with the flow. Maybe this time, it'll work out.Maybe this time, love will hit both of them when they least expect it.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 61
Kudos: 350





	I Just Want Your Extra Time And Your .....

**Author's Note:**

  * For [giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu/gifts).



> Hi...
> 
> So, a few weeks ago, I asked Giishu what she wanted for her birthday. She, very enthusiastically, requested a Text Fic. At first, I had no idea how to even write something like that...
> 
> But then, I came up with this fic idea and I had to write it. And I wasn't going to include smut at first, but after sharing my idea with friends, I was encouraged to give it a shot. So here it is... My first attempt at smut. I sincerely hope it's good. 
> 
> I am very nervous about posting this. I have read some truly excellent smut from this fandom, and I just wanted to say that you've all inspired me to give it a try. 
> 
> ANYWAY, Happy Birthday, Giishu! My dear, dear friend! You are amazing! 
> 
> Thank you to f-ing-ruthless-baz for pushing me to try writing smut in the first place. My story doesn't hold a candle to your brilliant smut-writing, but I hope I did you proud xD.
> 
> Thank you also to TBazzSnow (Artescapri) for being an amazing beta-reader, and amazing friend, and just continually shouting encouragement at me when I needed it the most. 
> 
> The title is inspired by Prince's "Kiss" because OF COURSE I was gonna use a sultry Prince song for my first smut fic.

**_Day 1:_ **

**BAZ**

The first message comes on a Friday evening, around 8:45. At this point, I am already beyond exhausted, and have settled into bed with a book ( _ A Memory of Light _ , the final book of the  _ Wheel of Time  _ series. Dev made me start the series when we were still in school and although the author died years ago, I feel the need to finish the series) (I tend to be a bit of a completist). My friends have often poked fun at the fact that I work in publishing, surrounded by books all day, yet my favourite activity seems to be reading for fun. I’ve had to often explain that it is one thing to spend my days scrutinizing over every single detail (minor or otherwise) pertaining to the creation and publication of a book, and another entirely to be able to sit down and enjoy it. 

My phone buzzes from its spot on my nightstand. Typically, I have a strict policy where I log off from my phone and all communications after 8:00 (though Dev loves to ignore this policy and texts me at all points during the night -- how he can come into work looking like he obtained a full night’s sleep is beyond me). However, we are in the middle of a massive book release from a rather well-established author (the third, most-likely final, and highly anticipated installment of their popular book series), and those of us involved with the project have been scrambling to ensure that everything with the impending release goes off completely without a hitch. I decide that special cases require me to break my own rule and I glance at my phone. 

**_Unknown Number (20:45):_ **

_ Hello, darling. This is Snowcone from Listless Love. We’ve got an hour together, so I hope you’re ready for me to blow your mind.  _

_ Excuse me?! _

I delete the message in a panic, before I think to ask who the mystery texter is. I chalk it up to one of those horrid scam texts. Niall got roped into one of those schemes a few weeks ago. If I recall correctly, he was still in the middle of fixing that bit of nasty business. I am not nearly as naive as Niall, so I ignore the text message and hope that it was just a simple mistake (or a bloody scam artist).

Believing that bit of unpleasantness is securely behind me, I turn back to my book. 

Nearly 10 minutes pass when I hear another buzz from my phone. 

**_Unknown Number (20:55):_ **

_ Bit of a shy one, are we? Not a problem, I can work with that. Tell me love, do you prefer soft slow kisses? Or do you like them fast and hungry? _

I drop my mobile onto the bed as if it were made of hot coals. Who does this person think they are? My mind is making a small list of what these messages could be about. The most logical explanation is that this is someone who is either pranking me (I was of the belief that phone-based pranks were a thing of the past), or some unfortunate soul has the wrong number. 

I type out a message that attempts to be both courteous, yet firm. I don’t need to be receiving texts (sexual texts) during the night. 

**_Basilton Pitch (20:59):_ **

_ I do not know what this is about, but please delete this number and never message me again. _

**_Unknown Number (21:02):_ **

_ They weren’t kidding when they said you were a tough nut to crack. By all means, make this challenging. It’s more fun for me. _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:10):_ **

_ Are you as thick as you are perverse? Do not message me again, lest I get the authorities involved!  _

**_Unknown Number (21:12):_ **

_ I’m as thick as you want me to be, and there’s no need to get the authorities involved. I can handcuff you myself if need be. _

I cough out a gasp, ignoring the small blush creeping up my cheeks (not ideal, Basil). This has to end now! I won’t entertain this menace anymore. 

**_Basilton Pitch (21:14):_ **

_ Are you threatening me?! _

**_Unknown Number (21:15):_ **

_ I’m making you a promise, love. Unless threats are what you need to get going. I know how you posh types are.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:16):_ **

_ I’m blocking this number. _

I tap on the conversation settings and choose to both delete the conversation and block the offending number. Now that my night has been sufficiently ruined, I try to get comfortable in my bed. I had hoped to relax a little more tonight, but I’m no longer in the mood to read. 

My phone buzzes yet again. I snatch it up and sneer at the message on my screen.

__

**_Unknown Number (21:20):_ **

_ Come now, darling. I promise to be gentle with you (unless you prefer other methods). _

How is this imbecile still messaging me!? I blocked his bloody number!? I shudder at his language. It doesn’t feel right, calling me “darling”. I don’t know who this person is, nor what they want from me. And how did they get my number? I don’t give my mobile number out to any random person. Aside from my parents and siblings, the only people who have my number are Dev, Niall, and select business contacts. 

Not sexually perverse idiots with far too much time on their hands. 

__

**_Basilton Pitch (21:22):_ **

_ Why are you still able to text me!? I blocked you! _

**_Unknown Number (21:23):_ **

_ Did you not read the contract? Naughty boy.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:26):_ **

_ What contract? _

**_Unknown Number (21:27):_ **

_ Normally I don’t break character, but I’m starting to think you’ve really got no idea…  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:29):_ **

_ No idea about WHAT?! Is this some sort of sick joke? _

**_Unknown Number (21:33):_ **

_ Look, a contract was signed, and whomever signed it used your number. Maybe one of your mates is taking the piss out of you. Wouldn’t be the first time this happened. _

I frown at the mobile. One of my mates…?

Fucking, Dev!

He’s a bloody plague on my entire existence! My life was over the second he was born, the pillock! I think back to his cryptic comments earlier today. How he hoped that my evening proved to be rather entertaining. And that I get in some good, carefree reading (with that irritating wink he gave me) tonight. 

I type a message to the character on the other end of the conversation, hoping to get some information from them. 

**_Basilton Pitch (21:34):_ **

_ A contract was signed? By whom? _

**_Unknown Number (21:36):_ **

_ I can’t really tell you… These things are… confidential.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:36):_ **

_ And sending unsolicited sexual messages to strangers is acceptable to your moral compass?!  _

**_Unknown Number (21:37):_ **

_ Look, I don’t make the rules! I was given this number by my bosses! For the next two weeks, I have to engage with you for an hour! I’m not any happier about this than you are! _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:38):_ **

_ Two weeks?! That’s bloody well not happening! I assure you I will get to the bottom of this! _

I look through the apps on my phone, and sure enough there is an app for something called “Listless Love Messenger”.

I groan as I remember Dev asking to borrow my mobile earlier today. The bastard must have downloaded and set up everything while I was none the wiser. 

I’m going to murder him tomorrow. Then, I’m going to tell Niall that Dev’s been in love with him since he started working at the publishing house. Then I’ll resurrect him, so that he can feel as mortified as I am right now! 

I try to delete the app, but messages keep popping up, telling me that the contract I’ve signed (forged by a Brutus amongst my family) is binding for the next two weeks. 

**_Unknown Number (21:38):_ **

_ Good luck with that, mate. Look, there’s still 7 mins left for this session. Do you need me to do anything? Bite your lips? Lick your neck? Pull your hair? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:39):_ **

_ I beg your pardon! _

**_Unknown Number (21:40):_ **

_ I’m not judging. Your pleasure points are your business. You’d be surprised what gets people off.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:41):_ **

_ You can fuck right off!  _

**_Unknown Number (21:42):_ **

_ Not while on the clock. I have rules.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:43):_ **

_ You’re an imbecile.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:44):_ ** __

_ And you’re a pompous git. You’re still stuck with me for two weeks. With that being said, I’m afraid our time is up. I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:44):_ **

_ Jesus Christ, you will not. And don’t call me darling! _

I wait a few more minutes and breathe in a sigh of relief. The messages have stopped for now. I’m going to have to deal with this mess tomorrow. I’m not looking forward to dealing with customer service (overworked, over stressed people crowded into a single room and sharing a single brain cell), but I need to have this issue cleared up. 

Then I should probably repay my dear cousin for the kind gesture he bestowed upon me. I believe forging his signature to change his name from Devereaux Ignatius Grimm to Devastation Ignoramus Grime should do the trick. 

I take a couple of Melatonin tablets to settle my nerves before attempting to sleep. Things will be better tomorrow. I can fix this tomorrow. Stressing about it now will do me no good, and I do need to sleep. 

I’ll fix this tomorrow. 

* * *

  
  


**_Day 2:_ **

**SIMON**

**_Employee #61 (20:45):_ **

_ Good evening, sweetheart. Get to the bottom of things, did you? _

**_Private Number (20:47):_ **

_ Fuck off. _

**_Employee #61 (20:48):_ **

_ I’m gonna assume that’s a no, then? _

**_Private Number (20:49):_ **

_ They said the contract is legal and binding. So long as our conversations remain tasteful and consensual (which they haven’t been). _

**_Employee #61 (20:49):_ **

_ If you want a casual person to talk to, I’m all for that. Frankly, it’s a welcome change. _

**_Private Number (20:49):_ **

_ I don’t want anything from you. I just want to be left alone. _

**_Employee #61 (20:51):_ **

_ Right. But you’re stuck with me. So we can do this the easy way (and possibly enjoy some decent conversation), or the hard way (and I pester you with God-awful puns).  _

**_Private Number (20:51):_ **

_ I could also ignore you. Put my phone on silent. Or you could just NOT message me. _

**_Employee #61 (20:52):_ **

_ I’m afraid I have to message you. My activity data gets logged at the end of each session. _

**_Private Number (20:52):_ **

_ Whatever for? So that your bosses can get their kicks out of the humiliation of others? _

**_Employee #61 (20:53):_ **

_ You’re just a scream, aren’t you?  _

**_Private Number (20:54):_ ** __

_ I try. _

**_Private Number (20:58):_ **

_ But seriously, why must you log in your activity data? _

**_Employee #61 (21:05):_ **

_ It helps determine my pay for the week. _

**_Private Number (21:07):_ **

_ Are you not paid an hourly wage? _

**_Employee #61 (21:10):_ **

_ Not exactly. I mean I have a base salary. _

**_Private Number (21:11):_ **

_ And? _

**_Employee #61 (21:12):_ **

_ And what? I think you can figure the rest out on your own! _

**_Private Number (21:12):_ **

_ That can’t be legal. What sort of crooked operation is this? And why accept that? _

**_Employee #61 (21:13):_ **

_ Some of us don’t have a choice! We don’t all live in ivory towers, eating caviar and drinking champagne. _

**_Private Number (21:13):_ **

_ You’re telling me that you really couldn’t find a better job? Did you even try? _

**_Employee #61 (21:15):_ **

_ You’re a prick. _

**_Private Number (21:15):_ **

_ Possibly, yes.  _

**_Private Number (21:16):_ **

_ But weren’t you able to find a better job? _

**_Employee #61 (21:17):_ **

_ Not much work out there for a former Sociology Major. And with the current political mess… well stable jobs aren’t easy to come by. _

**_Private Number (21:17):_ **

_ Right… _

**_Employee #61 (21:17):_ **

_ Happy now? _

**_Private Number (21:17):_ **

_ Not in the slightest. _

**_Private Number (21:18):_ **

_ But we are stuck with each other for two weeks, so let’s just try to survive this. _

**_Employee #61 (21:20):_ **

_ Wait… So you’ll cooperate? _

**_Private Number (21:20):_ **

_ Consider it my charitable donation for the month. Also, I find I enjoy angering you.  _

**_Employee #61 21:20):_ **

_ Oh fuck off! I don’t need your bloody charity! _

**_Private Number (21:20):_ **

_ Now, now Mr. Snowcone. I think some gratitude is owed here. I suspect that you need me to cooperate, don’t you? _

**_Employee #61 (21:21):_ **

_ Arsehole… _

**_Private Number (21:21):_ **

_ Thought so.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:23):_ **

_ What are the damn rules, then? _

**_Private Number (21:24):_ **

_ This will remain strictly casual. I have no need for your… services. We keep our conversations as such. _

**_Employee #61 (21:26):_ **

_ Fine by me. Anything else? _

**_Private Number (21:26):_ **

_ No photographs or other media files. I can’t afford to have anyone in my professional life finding out about our arrangement.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:26):_ **

_ Of course… Can’t have that now, can we? _

**_Private Number (21:28):_ **

_ No personal questions. I’m not here to hash out the details of my tragic past. I’ve already got a therapist for that. _

**_Employee #61 (21:28):_ **

_ Wasn’t planning on it.  _

**_Private Number (21:30):_ **

_ No pet names. No “sweetheart”, or “dear”, or anything like that. _

**_Employee #61 (21:31):_ **

_ Well, what can I call you? _

**_Private Number (21:35):_ **

_ Pitch is fine. _

**_Employee #61 (21:35):_ **

_ Like “dark as…”? _

**_Private Number (21:35):_ **

_ I suppose. _

**_Employee #61 (21:37):_ **

_ You can call me Snow… As in “light as…” _

**_Private Number (21:37):_ **

_ Bloody brilliant… _

**_Employee #61 (21:38):_ **

_ Yeah, well at least our pen names match… sorta. Any more rules? _

**_Private Number (21:42):_ **

_ Just one. This ends in exactly two weeks. Once it’s done, all communications must cease between us.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:42):_ **

_ Gladly. _

**_Employee #61 (21:43):_ **

_ So what, is this a truce or something? _

**_Private Number (21:43):_ **

_ Good Lord, you are thick. You can’t have a truce with someone you barely know. Are we even enemies? _

**_Employee #61 (21:44):_ **

_ It definitely feels that way! _

**_Private Number (21:44):_ **

_ Fine! Whatever! Truce! _

**_Employee #61 (21:44):_ **

_ Bloody perfect… until tomorrow then. _

* * *

  
  


**_Day 5:_ **

**BAZ**

**_Unknown Number (20:45):_ **

_ Tell me, Pitch. What do you like most about a scone? _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:50):_ **

_ Good evening to you too. Do you start all your conversations with a random statement? _

**_Unknown Number (20:52):_ **

_ I figure why waste time on pointless greetings when we’re expecting messages from each other? _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:52):_ **

_ Charming as always, aren’t you, Snow? _

**_Unknown Number (20:53):_ **

_ Whatever, you enjoy it.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:53):_ **

_ I will never admit to that. _

**_Unknown Number (20:53):_ **

_ Right… _

**_Unknown Number (20:53):_ **

_ So, anyway, scones! _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:55):_ **

_ What about them? _

**_Unknown Number (20:55):_ **

_ What do you like the most about them? _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:56):_ **

_ What’s this about _

**_Unknown Number (20:56):_ **

_ I’m trying to come up with a perfect scone recipe.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:58):_ **

_ Are you a baker? _

**_Unknown Number (20:58):_ **

_ Sorta. I’ve been practicing kitchen skills and coming up with recipes.  _

**_Unknown Number (20:59):_ **

_ I’m trying to save money to afford going to culinary school. I was never a Uni-type of person. Cooking and food were always my passions. _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:01):_ **

_ Why go to University then? _

**_Unknown Number (21:02):_ **

_ Let’s just say I was under the influence of a toxic parental figure. _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:05):_ **

_ Oh… Yes… That’s a story I know all too well. _

**_Unknown Number (21:05):_ **

_ Yeah… _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:15):_ **

_ Scones are soft like pillows. That’s what I like the most about them. My mother loved the really soft scones from the boarding school she went to as a child. So… a perfect scone should be soft. So soft that it melts in your mouth. _

**_Unknown Number (21:16):_ **

_ Yes!! I agree with you! There are these scones at this bakery near my flat! Sour cherry (the best flavour, I will fight on this, if need be). They’re so soft… God, I dream of those scones... _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:17):_ **

_ You’re such an idiot, Snow. _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:19):_ **

_ But yes… They were apparently that good.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:20):_ **

_ One of my mother’s friends was a baker. I remember, as a child, she would visit often and bring us her baked goods.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:22):_ **

_ Why’d she stop? _

**_Unknown Number (21:26):_ **

_ I get the feeling I just asked a personal question. You don’t have to tell me anything. _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:35):_ **

_ It’s alright. _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:37):_ **

_ She stopped coming around when my mother died.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:38):_ **

_ And that’s all we’re going to say on the subject. _

**_Unknown Number (21:38):_ **

_ I understand.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:40):_ **

_ So why do you love food and cooking so much? _

**_Unknown Number (21:41):_ **

_ I dunno… I think it’s because growing up in the homes, there wasn’t really much food to go around. I think I got a love for it then. I want to love and I dunno… appreciate? How food is made.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:42):_ **

_ I suppose when you put it that way, it makes sense why you would put yourself through this kind of work to achieve that goal.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:42):_ **

_ It isn’t all bad. I mean… it’s awkward as hell and I sometimes hate it…  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:43):_ **

_ This doesn’t sit well with me... _

**_Unknown Number (21:43):_ **

_ Wow… You do have feelings… Shocking! _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:44):_ **

_ Very funny… _

**_Unknown Number (21:44):_ **

_ I just don’t think about it. It’s a job I have to do, so I just do it. I get a client, and I write a couple of lines to get them going, and then I get paid. What’s there to think about? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:45):_ **

_ I truly hope you don’t have to do this for much longer… _

**_Unknown Number (21:45):_ **

_ Thank you. You’re not so terrible. I enjoy these conversations.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:45):_ **

_ They have been rather entertaining. _

**_(X) Basilton Pitch (21:46) (NOT DELIVERED):_ **

_ But you aren’t so terrible yourself. And you deserve more than this job... _

_ Automated message (21:46): Your session for this evening has reached its hour limit. Thank you for your business. _

  
  


* * *

**_Day 7:_ **

**SIMON**

**_Employee #61 (20:50):_ **

_ Bloody fucking hell! I swear I’m going to shave my hair off! _

**_Private Number (20:55):_ **

_ You alright, Snow? _

**_Employee #61 (20.58):_ **

_ I can never get my hair to cooperate with me. And I had an interview today, where presentation was key! The manager took one look at my bloody messy curls, and decided that I didn’t deserve the job. _

**_Private Number (21:00):_ **

_ Are you sure it was because of your curls? You aren’t that eloquent a speaker on your best days. _

**_Employee #61 (21:05):_ **

_ Oh fuck off, you bloody wanker! _

**_Private Number (21:08):_ **

_ Not during these conversations, I’m not. _

**_Employee #61 (21:11):_ **

_ I hate to admit it, but that made me laugh. _

**_Private Number (21:11):_ **

_ Do you condition your hair? _

**_Employee #61 (21:14):_ **

_ Is that necessary _

**_Private Number (21:15):_ **

_ What… yes! Of course it is! It keeps your hair from becoming tangled and frizzy! _

**_Employee #61 (21:18):_ **

_ How? _

**_Private Number (21:20):_ **

_ I don’t know the science behind it, Snow. But if you squish it into your hair, it hydrates it. _

**_Employee #61 (21:22):_ **

_ Squish it? _

**_Private Number (21:24):_ **

_ Do you need a demonstration? _

**_Employee #61 (21:25):_ **

_ Well… I thought we agreed! No flirting _

**_Private Number (21:26):_ **

_ I wasn’t flirting! I was being sarcastic. If you weren’t so bloody perverted, you’d be able to tell the difference! _

**_Employee #61 (21:27):_ **

_ Sure you were, Pitch… Anytime you want me to turn it on, I’d be happy to. ;) _

**_Private Number (21:27):_ **

_ You’re a nightmare… _

**_Employee #61 (21:27):_ **

_ Anything for you, darling. *kisses* _

**_Private Number (21:27):_ **

_ I’m rolling my eyes at you. _

**_Employee #61 (21:30)_ **

_ So… tell me more about conditioner… _

**_Private Number (21:34):_ **

_ I’m not here to be your personal hair care expert, Snow. Surely Google can answer all of your questions for you.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:40):_ **

_ Figured you’d say that. So I Googled. Apparently I’m supposed to squeeze water out of my hair in a cotton t-shirt. I’ve been using a towel to rub my hair dry. _

**_Private Number (21:42):_ **

_ You’re impossible, Snow. Even if I wanted to help you, we’d need more than the remaining seven days together.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:42):_ **

_ LMAO! _

**_Private Number (21:43):_ **

_ What?  _

**_Employee #61 (21:44):_ **

_ /creepy voice/ SEVEN DAYYYYYYYYS….. _

**_Private Number (21:44):_ **

_ Lol… You’re a moron Snow.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:45):_ **

_ I made you laugh, so I win. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, Pitch! _

**_Private Number (21:45):_ **

_ Good night, Snow.  _

* * *

**_Day 9:_ **

**BAZ**

**_Unknown Number (20:45):_ **

_ Publish any best sellers today, Pitch? _

**_Unknown Number (20:50):_ **

_ Pitch? _

**_Unknown Number (20:55):_ **

_ Are you alright? _

**_Unknown Number (21:00):_ **

_ Son-of-a-Pitch! _

**_Unknown Number (21:02):_ **

_ You should set up a camera… You could have your very own Pitch Stream! _

**_Unknown Number (21:05):_ **

_ I hope you’re not sending in a complaint… you know what they say… Pitches get stitches! _

**_Unknown Number (21:07):_ **

_ Play football recently? Were you Pitch on the pitch? _

**_Unknown Number (21:15):_ **

_ Seriously, I’m worried about you. Are you ok? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:15):_ **

_ Pitches get stitches. That made me chuckle. Who would have thought you had a clever bone in your body? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:15):_ **

_ I had a long day at work. We’re getting ready to do a release of one of the biggest books of the year. I’m just really tired.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:16):_ **

_ We could cut today short. _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:16):_ **

_ Wouldn’t do any good. I haven’t been sleeping. Too much on my mind.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:16):_ **

_ Wanna talk about it? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:17):_ **

_ I thought we agreed on no personal questions. _

**_Unknown Number (21:17):_ **

_ You can be as personal or impersonal as you’d like. _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:20):_ **

_ I’ve got a lot that depends on this release going well. I also have people who would love to see me fail. _

**_Unknown Number (21:21):_ **

_ Who the fuck could ever hope for something like that? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:22):_ **

_ My father’s been hoping I’d follow him into the family business. He hasn’t been pleased at some of my life choices. _

**_Unknown Number (21:22):_ **

_ And for that, he wants you to fail? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:23):_ **

_ He hasn’t said so out right, but if I fail out of this career, I’ll have to follow him into the family business. At least, that’s his justification. He’s been pressuring me to quit my job. He means well, and I think that he’s just worried that it isn’t a career that could provide for me. But he’s also so stubborn and once he decides he’s right, there’s no reasoning with him.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:23):_ **

_ You could tell him to sod off.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:24):_ **

_ As much as I would love to do that. I wish to still have a relationship with my younger siblings. In case… In case they need some guidance. When they’re older, that is.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:24):_ **

_ How many siblings do you have? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:24):_ **

_ Four. Three sisters and one brother.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:25):_ **

_ Bloody Hell!  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:25):_ **

_ Well two are twins! _

**_Unknown Number (21:25):_ **

_ I think that’s incredible! I wish I had siblings growing up.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:26):_ **

_ I’ll admit that while they are a handful, it is nice to see them every time I go visit. I tend to miss them.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:27):_ **

_ Sucks that dealing with your father makes things difficult.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:27):_ **

_ It’s fine, really. No need to cry on my behalf, Snow.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:28):_ **

_ Dick… _

**_Unknown Number (21:30):_ **

_ But if it helps, I kinda get it.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:31):_ **

_ Do you? _

**_Unknown Number (21:33):_ **

_ Yeah… I mean, I’m an orphan, so never really knew my real parents. But I had a foster father who sorta took me under his wing.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:33):_ **

_ The one who made you go to University? _

**_Unknown Number (21:34):_ **

_ The very same. I think he was trying to use my success to make a name for himself. Like my success would reflect well on him. Didn’t really care what I thought.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:34):_ **

_ What happened? _

**_Unknown Number (21:35):_ **

_ Well I was the good, obedient son. I was grateful for him taking me out of the system, so I did what he asked. But by the end of Uni, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s a bloody miracle that I didn’t flunk out. Davey wasn’t too happy about that.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:36):_ **

_ What did he do? _

**_Unknown Number (21:37):_ **

_ He threatened to throw me out. I told him to sod off and I haven’t spoken to him since. This was… maybe 2 years ago? My best friend took me in and I’ve been living with her ever since.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:38):_ **

_ Fuck… That’s awful, Snow. Puts my problems into perspective doesn’t it? _

**_Unknown Number (21:40):_ **

_ They aren’t any less valid. We all have our shit to carry. We just have to carry on as if there’s hope in the end; otherwise we can’t carry on at all.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:42):_ **

_ Vulgarity aside, that’s strangely profound. I’m hardly used to it from you. _

**_Unknown Number (21:42):_ **

_ S’the truth.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:43):_ **

_ I suppose you’re right. Here’s to being constant disappointments. _

**_Unknown Number (21:43):_ **

_ Fuckin’ cheers to that! _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:44):_ **

_ Thank you, Snow.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:44):_ **

_ Don’t go all soft on me, Pitch! _

**_Unknown Number (21:45):_ **

_ You’re welcome.  _

**_(X) Basilton Pitch (21:48) (NOT DELIVERED):_ **

_ You will never see this, and that’s maybe a good thing. But thank you for pulling me out of the dark. The truth is, I think I’m starting to feel more than a slight annoyance towards you.  _

_ Automated message (21:48): Your session for this evening has reached its hour limit. Thank you for your business. _

**_(X) Basilton Pitch (21:50) (NOT DELIVERED):_ **

_ And I wish I had met you apart from these conversations. But I’d be lying if I denied that these conversations were the highlight of my day. Because they are, Snow.  _

_ Automated message (21:50): Your session for this evening has reached its hour limit. Thank you for your business. _

**_(X) Basilton Pitch (21:51) (NOT DELIVERED):_ **

_ Until tomorrow… Good night, Snow.  _

_ Automated message (21:51): Your session for this evening has reached its hour limit. Thank you for your business. _

* * *

**_Day 10:_ **

**SIMON**

**_Employee #61 (20:45):_ **

_ Do you like Earl Grey Tea? _

**_Private Number (20:45):_ **

_ Of course. I’m not a bloody plebeian.  _

**_Employee #61 (20:45):_ **

_ No need for your smart mouth.  _

**_Private Number (20:47):_ **

_ What’s this about, Snow? _

**_Employee #61 (20:48):_ **

_ I was trying out a new recipe that reminded me of you, for some reason.  _

**_Private Number (20:48):_ **

_ Because of Earl Grey? _

**_Employee #61 (20:49):_ **

_ They’re shortbread cookies with Earl Grey Tea.  _

**_Private Number (20:49):_ **

_ And why does this remind you of me? _

**_Employee #61 (20:50):_ **

_ You just seem like the type of bloke who uses posh products that smell all fancy like Earl Grey Tea.  _

**_Private Number (20:51):_ **

_ I’m impressed, Snow. You’re not entirely off. Tell me, what else do you imagine about me? _

**_Employee #61 (20:51):_ **

_ Ahhh is this flirting? Are we flirting yet? _

**_Private Number (20:52):_ **

_ Need I remind you that you started this? Now, indulge my narcissism…  _

**_Employee #61 (20:53):_ **

_ You vain arsehole.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:00):_ **

_ Let’s see… Well, I imagine you like to lounge about in fancy suits and waistcoats. Your perfectly coiffed black hair (you call yourself Pitch, so I’m sticking to the dark and gloomy theme), falling in long thick ringlets. You look like someone from the Victorian era. Down to the dramatic expressions. You pout, all the bloody time, wondering why the world is so cruel to you. You probably write emo poetry while gazing intently into a fire.  _

**_Private Number (21:05):_ **

_ You’re a nightmare.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:06):_ **

_ How accurate am I? _

**_Private Number (21:07):_ **

_ My hair doesn't fall in long thick ringlets. It only reaches my shoulders and it falls in waves. Also, who the bloody hell wears suits around the house? I wear jeans if I’m being casual.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:10):_ **

_ Not fair. Making me picture you in jeans.  _

**_Private Number (21:11):_ **

_ I do enjoy these ego boosts. By all means, keep them coming.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:12):_ **

_ What will you do with yourself in 4 days? _

**_Private Number (21:15):_ **

_ I’d prefer we didn’t talk about that.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:15):_ **

_ Are you saying you’ll miss me? _

**_Private Number (21:17):_ **

_ As much as one could miss an amusing thorn in their side.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:19):_ **

_ Well, I’m not ashamed in saying I’d miss this. These conversations have been nice.  _

**_Private Number (21:21):_ **

_ They have been. _

**_Employee #61 (21:25):_ **

_ Ok! Do me now! _

**_Private Number (21:25):_ **

_ A bit forward, aren’t we? _

**_Employee #61 (21:26):_ **

_ I meant describe me! Prat! _

**_Private Number (21:32):_ **

_ Your hair is blonde and always just a mess of unkempt curls that flop over your head. You probably have that buzzed-on-the-side haircut that the University students love wearing. Your eyes are dark, which is a lovely contrast to your light hair. You’re obsessed with food, yet have the energy of a manic rabbit, so you’re probably quite lean. You spend your days annoying those around you with God-awful jokes and references that nobody really understands. But they forgive you, because you cook wonderful meals and are always taking care of them. You are incredibly kind and love to surround yourself with people. People are happy to be around you because you radiate warmth and light. _

**_Private Number (21:38):_ **

_ Snow? You’ve gone awfully quiet. I’m worried that I’ve upset you.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:39):_ **

_ Sorry… It’s just. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said about me. I’m still thinking about it...  _

**_Employee #61 (21:42):_ **

_ Mind you, you’ve missed a few things... My hair isn’t blonde, it’s a kinda light brown. My best friend says it’s bronze. And my eyes are blue. Also, I’ve got a ton of freckles and moles over my body. My friends have placed bets on how many I’ve got! _

**_Private Number (21:43):_ **

_ Don’t get used to the nice comments. I only have a limited amount of nice comments I can give out.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:43):_ **

_ What happens when you run out? _

**_Private Number (21:44):_ **

_ It’s rather dreadful. I become completely drained. I need a day to recover. It’s best that I stay as much an arsehole as I can. _

**_Employee #61 (21:44):_ **

_ It’s a shame. I like Nice Pitch.  _

**_Private Number (21:45):_ **

_ Well then I must rest up, so that he’ll be good to go tomorrow night. Good night, Snow. Sleep well.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:45):_ **

_ Good night. Sleep well.  _

* * *

**_Day 12:_ **

**BAZ**

To say that today was a rough day would be an understatement. I would give anything in the world to be able to write this day completely off. To go back to the morning and avoid the many disasters that managed to find their way to me. 

With one of the biggest book releases of the year hanging over our heads, there was no room for any kind of error. As is such with the balance of nature and the universe, it is during these times where mayhem tends to strike. 

And strike it did. 

From late press releases, to last minute editing changes, to emergency renegotiations of contracts, it seemed as though karma was asking for compensation for the wonderful year we had thus far. For some reason, every emergency needed my full and undivided attention. I don’t own the publishing house (a friend of the family does, but that’s besides the point). I handle the initial pass of selecting books to publish (Pitch handling pitches, it’s a laugh for everyone but myself) and how widespread the book releases will be. 

I can typically deal with the endless disasters just fine, but the world wasn’t quite through with… what was the phrase Snow used once…. Fucking my shit up. 

The final straw came during my lunch break, in the park, in the shape of a man shorter than me, with feathery hair, light eyes and a smile that sent a shudder through me (and not the pleasurable kind). 

François Lambert. The man who spent the better part of last year charming, dining, and shagging me until I was willing to do anything and give anything to make sure he would stay. 

I did… I gave so much. Too much. 

In the end, I barely knew myself anymore.

That seemed to be the most opportune time for him to turn around and take the last shard of my dignity (during an ill-advised trip to Las Vegas), only to leave me hollowed out and shattered.

I don’t think I loved him… Not really. Now that I think about it, what we had wasn’t really love. But that didn’t mean that my time with him meant nothing. 

It didn’t mean that when he sat next to me on the park bench and whispered a soft hello in my ear, I didn’t feel my stomach sinking to the ground. 

It certainly didn’t mean that when he playfully brushed the hair from my face and told me he missed me, that I didn’t want to run away with him once more. 

For about five seconds -- right before I told him to kindly bugger off and to never speak to me again. 

I spent the rest of the day in a daze. Walking the office in a mindless thrall of sorts. Dev had pulled me aside and asked if I was alright, but I couldn’t tell him. I wasn’t ready to confront what had just happened (and I’m pretty sure if Dev knew Lambert was back in town, he would find him and beat him to a bloody pulp). I simply nodded and went about my day, mindlessly going through the motions. Waiting for the moment when I could go back home and end this miserable day. 

As I left the building, I kept thinking about Lambert, and his offer to run away with me again. To come back into my life. To forget the last year ever happened between us. And if that didn’t sound appealing to me… I would never go back to that. 

Fuck me -- I cannot do this right now! I refuse to! I need to forget this day ever happened. I need to forget about what a bloody mess my life is. 

I need to forget about Francois bloody Lambert and his wretched sparkling smile.

I need…

I need to not feel so alone. At least for one night. For one night, I need to feel something else. 

I practically pounce on my mobile when I receive the first message from Snow. I find myself looking forward to the hour I get to spend with him. Getting to know a perfect stranger, no strings attached, has been rather nice to say the least. I can take off the mask I wear at all times, hiding my vulnerability with snide remarks and insults. With Snow, there is no need for hiding, because we both know that our time together is limited. So what's the harm in sharing everything? It’s been a lovely feeling. Liberating, really. So much so, that I’ve been trying to avoid the fact that it’ll be over soon. 

In two days, to be precise. 

And there’s so much left that I want to say to him. I’m not ready to let him go yet. But… can I ask him to stay? Would he want to continue talking to someone who up until this point was simply a client? 

That’s all I am to him, isn’t it? A client. 

But I can’t think about that now. Now, I am desperate to forget. 

**_Unknown Number (20:45):_ **

_ Hey, Pitch. What do you feel like talking about today? I’ve been practicing my baking skills. I think I’ve finally got a handle on baking scones! _

I type out a message and hit “send” before I have a chance to second guess my decisions. 

**_Basilton Pitch (20:45):_ **

_ Snow? I need… I need a distraction. _

Bloody hell. I despise myself for wanting to ask this from him. Our “whatever this is” has been so nice, so uncomplicated. I don’t want to ruin it with my “needs”. 

But his reply comes almost immediately. 

**_Unknown Number (20:45):_ **

_ Are you alright? _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:46):_ **

_ No. I’m not.  _

**_Unknown Number (20:46):_ **

_ What do you need? _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:46):_ **

_ I need to forget this day ever happened. I need to forget about my manipulative, deceptive ex. I just need to forget.  _

**_Unknown Number (20:48):_ **

_ Do you need me to take care of you? _

_ Take care of you. _ Those words settle into the deep part of my brain and begin to simmer. He wants to take care of me. To make sure I’m alright. To give me what I need. My heart quickens as I contemplate what that means. Can I cross that line with him? Allow him to offer his...  _ services  _ to me?

I still hesitate. I don’t want him to feel like he’s obligated to do anything. I don’t want to change our “whatever this is”. 

**_Basilton Pitch (20:50):_ **

_ I don’t want to take advantage. _

**_Unknown Number (20:50):_ **

_ Let me help you. _

I draw in a slow, steady breath. He wants me to allow him to do this. I won’t think about the fact that I’m his client that he’s technically been paid to do this very thing (Christ, what am I doing?). It can’t be more than a one time thing. Even though our time is coming to an end (2 days), I won’t ask this of him again. 

I change into some more comfortable clothes, and ensure that I have the proper  _ items _ within a close vicinity. With shaking hands, I type out my stipulation to Snow. 

**_Basilton Pitch (20:55):_ **

_ Only for tonight. _

**_Unknown Number (20:55):_ **

_ Only for tonight. _

**_Unknown Number (20:55):_ **

_ Now, once we get going, I won’t expect you to respond. But if you ever want to stop before the session time is up, just say so, yeah? _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:56):_ **

_ I understand. _

**_Unknown Number (20:57):_ **

_ Do you have any specific requests? _

I do. Have a request, that is. And it’s rather devastatingly embarrassing. I want to believe that, for tonight, someone cares about me. The real me, and only me. For one night, I need to believe that I’m more than just Pitch. I need to believe that  _ Baz _ is truly desirable.

**_Basilton Pitch (20:59):_ **

_ Call me Baz. _

**_Unknown Number (21:01):_ **

_ Baz… How about we start with soft kisses on the corners of your lips? As I kiss you, I slowly trail my fingers behind your neck. Do you like that? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:03):_ **

_ Yes… _

I try to imagine him with me. All bronze hair and blue eyes. He’s told me about the bets his friends have made on the amount of moles he’s got splattered all over his body (he calls them his own personal Jackson Pollock painting). I picture his rough hands holding my head ever so gently and I sigh. I lean back against the headboard of my bed, breathing slowly. 

**_Unknown Number (21:05):_ **

_ I thread my fingers slowly through your soft silky hair. I twirl my fingers and close tight. I give your hair a small tug back. I start to move my kisses down your exposed neck. I find a nice soft spot and take a bit of skin in my mouth.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:06):_ **

_ Yes… _

I arch my back as I visualize him trailing those sweet, soft kisses down my neck. He had complained about his impossible curls to me, but now, I try to feel them against my face, brushing me oh so tenderly. I would give anything to be able to bury my face in them, fill myself with their scent and warmth. I feel shivers going down my spine as small goosebumps prickle my arms. 

I want this… I need this. 

**_Unknown Number (21:07):_ **

_ You like that, darling? I move one of my hands down to your waist and begin to tug at your shirt. What do you say we take it off? _

I gasp loudly at the word “darling”. I can almost feel Snow next to me, holding me close and whispering that sweet word in my ear over and over again. 

Darling…

Darling…

_ Darling… _

My face is flushed, my heart is racing, and I feel a deep sense of longing and hunger in the pit of my stomach. I want to touch him, to feel him. I want to do to him, what he’s doing to me. 

**_Basilton Pitch (21:10):_ **

_ I unbutton my shirt and pull it off. I reach up and caress your face softly. _

**_Unknown Number (21:10):_ **

_ You don’t need to do that, love. Let me take care of you today.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:10):_ **

_ I need to touch you. _

**_Unknown Number (21:11):_ **

_ Not yet... I run my hands over your chest. I lay you down somewhere I can appreciate you properly. I start to kiss your collarbone. I grab your hands and pin them to the side of your head. We’re going to do this slowly.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:12):_ **

_ Please… _

**_Unknown Number (21:12):_ **

_ Now I start delicately brushing kisses over your chest. I trail my lips softly over one of your nipples. My tongue flicks at the tip. Are you shivering, Baz? Tell me you’re shivering. _

God… I am… I actually am. My back arches, and I swear to everything that I can feel his tongue on me, caressing over me, ever so slowly. I moan and writhe just a little bit, thinking about him and wanting so desperately for him to be here with me. Even though he isn’t, it doesn’t stop me from pretending that he is. For tonight, I can pretend that I am loved by someone, that I’m cared for by Snow.

**_Basilton Pitch (21:14):_ **

_ Yes… it’s good… so good. _

**_Unknown Number (21:15):_ **

_ I bring your hands together over your head and start kissing you deep again. I take you in and begin to bite your bottom lip.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:16):_ **

_ I start to grind my hips against you. Do you want me, Baz? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:16):_ **

_ Yes… Snow… yes _

I sink lower and lower beneath my sheets and grind against them. The straining in my pants that began as a dull throb only moments ago has grown into an ache that has commanded my full attention. I apply some lube onto my hand and slip it into my pants. While I still have my faculties about me, I realize that I will not be able to physically text shortly. I turn on the “voice-to-text” function on my phone and quickly program it to send any such messages to Snow and only Snow. I run the risk of slipping out something dreadfully mortifying, but for tonight, I do not care. I do not care about anything tonight. 

**_Unknown Number (21:16):_ **

_ You are so beautiful. One of my hands makes its way to the waistband of your jeans. Have I told you how fit you look in jeans, Baz?  _

Oh God… he called me beautiful. Coming from him, I truly believe it too. I give my cock a nice hard pull and arch my back, just a little bit more. 

I’m beautiful. He thinks I’m beautiful. 

**_Unknown Number (21:17):_ **

_ I start kissing your neck again as my hand works to undo your belt buckle. You taste so good. I start to suck on your neck, brushing you lightly with my teeth. Is this as good for you as it is for me? _

I can feel a sort of pulsing electricity coursing through my body. My fingers are thrumming, grasping desperately to the bed sheets. So tight, that my arm begins to shake. My toes curl into the mattress and a soft whine escapes my lips. 

How is this man able to have such power over me? How is he able to make me feel this way, to make me moan and twist and squirm with the skill of his words. Maybe it’s my own desperation to cure my solitude that’s doing it for me, but in any case, I’m not angry about it. Not in the slightest sense. In fact, I welcome it. 

I whisper into the mobile (perched on one of my pillows), practically pleading for more. 

More attention, more heat, and especially more of that addictive, pulsing energy that seems to come with every mobile chime. 

**_Basilton Pitch (21:18):_ **

_ Snow… don’t stop. _

**_Unknown Number (21:18):_ **

_ Shhh… don’t reply, love. Let me do the work. _

**_Unknown Number (21:18):_ **

_ I help you out of those jeans. I keep your pants on, for now. I take a good look at you, at all of you. I brush the hair from your face. I place your hands on my shoulders, as I work to get my trousers off. _

My toes curl even more and my hand pulls and tugs more fervently. My blood is rushing to every extremity in my body. I keep going, a high pitched wail of desire soaring through the air. 

Can he hear me? Can he hear the noises that betray the extent of my lustful frenzy? I want him to know. I want him to hear what he has made of me. 

**_Unknown Number (21:19):_ **

_ I start to grind up against you. I can feel your cock harden underneath me. I grab your wrists again and clasp my hands in yours. I lean down and crash our mouths together. I lightly pull on your tongue and suck on your lips as I roll my hips over you.  _

My hair has fallen over my face in my excitement. I am aware that my own fingers are brushing my hair aside, but for some reason I don’t feel my long, bony fingers. Instead, I feel thick, warm hands, rough from months of practicing kitchen skills and perfecting cooking techniques. I don’t feel my cold hands rubbing me, I feel his warmth, his life. As cold as I am (physically and emotionally), the mere thought of Snow is enough to warm me up. The intensity of warmth is so great that at one point I feel as though that I may be crashing into the Sun itself. 

My teeth bite down on my lower lip, but I feel Snow, instead. My hand squeezes tight into a fist, but I feel Snow pinning me down, instead. I continue to tug and pull at my shaft, my fingers running over the tip, but all I feel is Snow. 

Snow’s hands and lips and body all over me. 

Caressing... 

Grasping…

Grinding... 

Pulling... 

Licking... 

Kissing... 

_ Holding me. _

**_Unknown Number (21:20):_ **

_ Baz… darling? I think I’m getting turned on as well.  _

Oh? Did I just read that properly? Are you getting turned on, Snow?

How about I help you a little along the way?

My hand fumbles momentarily on my phone. I may regret this in the morning. Fuck, I may regret it an hour after this is done. But for now, second guesses and hesitations be damned. 

I hit the button for the audio record. 

And I. Let. Loose.

I sigh and whine and moan as loud as I can, picturing Snow with me, draped over me, his warmth and life emanating over me, entering me. Giving me life and warmth and love. 

With a coy smile on my lips, I hit “send”.

**_Basilton Pitch (21:21):_ **

_ *audio file sent* _

**_Unknown Number (21:22):_ **

_ Fuck… Baz! I wasn’t expecting that!  _

**_Unknown Number (21:22):_ **

_ But fuck… That was hot.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:22):_ **

_ Let’s work the rest of you. Shall we? You’ve been so patient, Baz. Do you need me to work you? _

Yes Snow! Please! For the love of all that is good and holy in this world! Get on with it!

**_Unknown Number (21:23):_ **

_ I continue to kiss you, every moment wanting to take more and more of you in. I need to feel all of you, Baz. I need to keep you under my hands. One of my hands stays clasped in yours. I want to feel you, Baz. My legs start to gently push your legs apart.  _

I hit “record” again and moan some more. My legs spread further apart. I convince myself that he’s really here, with me. I convince myself that there is nowhere else he would rather be, than with me, pleasuring me, taking care of me. 

If he wants to feel all of me, I will gladly let him. Anything he wants, he can have. Any line he wants to cross, I will gladly cross with him. I will follow him anywhere he chooses to go. 

My mind is warning me that this is Lambert all over again. I tell my mind to bugger off. This is nothing like Lambert. At least, for  _ me _ , it is nothing like Lambert. I don’t want to admit it, God how I don’t want to admit it. 

But my heart is ready to acknowledge the truth that my head refuses to consider. 

That my feelings for Snow have developed into something more than a pleasant tolerance.

And this is where my situation becomes tragic once more. I can’t afford to feel anything for him. I’m his client. I can’t afford to allow these feelings to blossom into something more, especially when, at the end of the day, I’m merely a paycheck for him. 

However… Maybe tonight, I can afford to believe that I’m something more. 

That  _ we’re _ something more. 

And so I shamelessly growl and moan and whimper for him to touch me, kiss me, _ have me _ . 

I slap “send”.

**_Basilton Pitch (21:24):_ **

_ *audio file sent* _

**_Unknown Number (21:25):_ **

_ Fuck! Baz… You can’t just make those noises at me.  _

My devilish smile spreads wider. He may not have noticed, but I did. He broke his character again.

Snow’s coming undone, and I’m doing that to him. 

Now, I hunger for more of him and I tell him so… In another recording.

**_Basilton Pitch (21:26):_ **

_ *audio file sent* _

**_Unknown Number (21:26):_ **

_ Yuor a villain. You know that, don’t you? If only you knew what ur doing to me rite now.  _

Your spelling mistakes and loss of self-control tell me more than I need to know, Snow. Maybe this session isn’t only for me (do I dare to hope).

**_Unknown Number (21:27):_ **

_ I slowly work your pants off of you as I trail small kisses down your torso, towards your navel. I spread your legs wider as I reach the base of your shaft. I grab onto your hips and lift you onto my shoulders.  _

Oh fuck him… 

He’s holding me now and lifting me onto his shoulders, his fingers grasping tight to my hips… 

And… God… I… 

Fuck… I…

I WANT HIM!

I hit “send”.

**_Basilton Pitch (21:28):_ **

_ *audio file sent* _

**_Unknown Number (21:28):_ **

_ Fuck! Iwant… fuck!  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:28):_ **

_ I want you Snow God I want you _

I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted anything else in my life. I want him. I scream my desire into the silence of my room.. 

**_Unknown Number (21:28):_ **

_ You can have it, Baz. You know you can have it. _

**_Unknown Number (21:29):_ **

_ I've got my fingers nice and lubed up for you. I trail kisses up your shaft as I cup your arse. I give it a nice firm squeeze as I begin to suck at your tip.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:29):_ **

_ I start to tease your rim with one of my fingers, as my mouth closes in on your cock. I'm gonna be as gentle as I can, love. _

His perfect mouth is now wrapped around my cock and he’s taking me in. Snow once told me that his lips were nothing special, but if only he knew how wrong he was. His lips are glorious, magnificent, crafted by the bloody gods themselves! His tongue is teasing my tip, licking the precum off of me. My heart (amazingly) has not given out from over-exertion (I suppose the years of playing football have paid off). I feel sweaty and hot and so close. 

My stomach tightens some more and my legs buck against the sheets. I gasp for any bit of precious air. It’s too much. It’s all too much. 

And yet, at the same time, not enough. Maybe not for either of us. 

While I still have my wits about me, I set my audio recording app to record and send audio files every few seconds or so. At this point, I won’t be able to focus on anything other than myself, and I still want Snow to hear me. To hear all of me and everything he’s doing to me. 

I whisper over and over for him to fuck me. “Please Snow, fuck me”. I’m practically begging him.

**_Basilton Pitch (21:30):_ **

_ *audio file sent* _

**_Unknown Number (21:32):_ **

_ I intend to fuck you.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:32):_ **

_ I slide one of my fingers inside. I'm going to tease the muscles a little bit. Get you nice and comfortable, before adding another finger. I'm pumping my fingers inside you as my mouth sucks your cock. _

I moan and gasp and writhe against my sheets. The muscles in my back tighten and clench against the mattress. I can’t go on like this. I grab the bottle of lube and apply some more onto my fingers and hands. 

Not my hands… Snow’s hands. Snow’s hands teasing me and pulling me and working me. 

Snow’s fingers entering and massaging and rubbing. Snow’s fingers pumping and pushing on the spot that makes me cry and gasp and want to scream out his name. 

  
  


**_Basilton Pitch (21:34):_ **

_ *audio file sent* _

**_Unknown Number (21:34):_ **

_ Baz… call me Simon. Please… call me Simon. _

“Simon... Simon… yes!” 

**_Basilton Pitch (21:34):_ **

_ *audio file sent* _

**_Unknown Number (21:36):_ **

_ Three fingers now. You take it, you take all of it. I find that spot, the one that makes you moan and give you just the right amount of pressure.  _

Simon rubs and I shiver. 

Simon pulls and I moan. 

Simon presses some more and shout his name over and over again as if it’s the key to unlocking my complete salvation. 

“SIMON! Please! Simon!”

**_Basilton Pitch (21:36):_ **

_ *audio file sent* _

**_Unknown Number (21:37):_ **

_ I slowly remove my fingers. I adjust you so that you can take me in properly. I hold you close to me. I will not let you go, Baz. I like you like this. Coming undone under my hands.  _

I am the one that is undone, Simon Snow. I am completely on fire for you. 

**_Unknown Number (21:37):_ **

_ I take your cock in my hand and pump it as I push my cock in. It feels so good Baz. So fucking good.  _

Jesus Christ, yes! It’s so good… so  _ good _ !

**_Unknown Number (21:38):_ **

_ I start picking up the pace as I feel you shuddering beneath me. Are you shuddering, love? I want to give you everything. You deserve everything, darling. _

_ Darling _ again! I am so close to him, I can hear him growling in my ear. As if he growls loud enough, he can do whatever he wishes with me (bloody hell, he doesn’t have to ask). I just need him to finish me. Please, Simon, finish me. 

**_Unknown Number (21:39):_ **

_ Are you coming yet, Baz? I'm about to come myself. _

Yes… Simon… I am so close. I thrash and spasm against my bed. My mobile falls over and pushes up against my nose. I roughly nudge it away, barely registering the small beeping noise it makes. 

Simon… me… Simon… and me. Pulling and tugging and pumping over and over and over. With a final full arch of my back, and a loud cry of pleasure, I fall apart in a warm, sticky mess. And it’s more amazing than I could ever imagine. More substantial, more complete! I have never felt this happy and elated, and secure in myself before. I have never felt more connected to someone as I do to Simon. I swear on everything I am, that I can see stars as I recover from my orgasm. I’m in my own personal galaxy and Simon is completely responsible. 

I turn to my mobile, now facing me, and I whisper softly. 

“Thank you, Simon…” I have a soft smile on my face. 

I try to not dwell too much on my embarrassing post-coital state. My hair is stuck to my face, drenched in sweat. My body, while pulsing with the remainder of Snow’s electricity, is also covered in the sticky residue of my distraction. I must look absolutely atrocious (if not well-shagged).

**_Basilton Pitch (21:44):_ **

_ *video file sent* _

**_Unknown Number (21:45):_ **

_ Oh… fuck, Baz… you're gorgeous… _

I smile, suddenly feeling shy. I don’t think I want to expose myself any more tonight. He is such a good person and I do appreciate the continued tenderness from him. 

Before my mind catches up to my hormones, I type out a message to Simon. One more message before the night ends and I lose him for another day.

**_(X) Basilton Pitch (21:46) (NOT DELIVERED):_ **

_ Simon… you are so amazing.  _

_ Automated message (21:46): Your session for this evening has reached its hour limit. Thank you for your business. _

  
  


And just like that, my world crumbles all around me. My fantasy comes apart and I’m left with my reality crashing over me in waves. 

The night was phenomenal, but it’s over. It’s over as quickly as it began. 

I sit up in my bed, ignoring the sticky reminder of the night’s activities. I’ll have to clean myself up, and change the bed sheets. I will have to eventually wash away any reminder of tonight, any memory of Simon’s words and my actions. 

As upsetting as it is to me, I have to admit that this is for the best. I would be kidding myself to think that this night meant anything to him. It probably didn’t, and that’s alright.

Simon Snow will never again call me “darling”. But I think I can live with that. Or at the very least, pretend that it doesn’t bother me as much as it actually does. I can be grateful that I got to share this moment with him, as well as the last two weeks. 

But, sitting here, alone and cold once more in my bed, I feel the ache in my chest again. And although I was satisfied beyond the point of comprehension, one truth creeps its way into my brain and settles like a persistent buzzing noise, growing louder as the time passes. 

It’ll never be enough. 

* * *

**SIMON**

I have one main rule I go by. 

It’s the one rule I had made for myself when I agreed to take this bloody job. I treat the rule as if it’s a sacred code of conduct for me. It allows me to stay disconnected from the things I write, and from the things I read. 

Do  _ not _ , under any circumstances, fall for the client. No matter how witty or charming, or how bloody beautiful they are when they orgasm. Keep a cool head and remember that in the end, this is a job, and a job alone. 

My rule was easy enough to follow when most of the clients I’d…  _ cater to _ , would only stick around for one session (typically, people tend to not want more than one). The interactions are brief, to the point, and I stick to the same script I’ve always stuck to. If I don’t think about it, I can just get the job done and move on with my life. 

It’s worked well for me so far. 

I should’ve known that things would be different with Pitch. It isn’t so easy to not think when I’m talking to probably the smartest person I know (aside from Penny, though I would love to see the two of them argue). I’ve been talking to him for a couple of weeks now and I’d hate to admit it… but I’ve grown to like the tosser. He’s a complete arsehole, all sharp remarks and always ready to mock my shortcomings. But he’s also very clever, and sarcastic, and have I mentioned how smart he is? Just yesterday, he was talking about the restoration of some random pyramid in Egypt, and I was completely enthralled by him. 

So when he asked me for a distraction tonight, I didn’t want to refuse him. From what little I knew of him, I knew that it couldn’t have been easy for him to ask something like that from me. He must have had a shit-filled day, and as much as I wanted to know about it (and comfort him through it, maybe…), I wouldn’t pry into his business. Our agreement, made when this whole debacle began, was meant to keep our relationship strictly casual, nothing more, nothing less. But, funny, sarcastic, sharp-as-a-blade Pitch was upset about something, and asking to forget. 

How could I say no to him?

Little did I know just how hard I’d be falling for him when I agreed to satisfy him. My first mistake was straying away from the script I used on all my clients (Pitch deserved more than that), and improvising the session. All I had to do was think about what I would do if he were there with me (my second mistake), and the words flowed easily. I wanted to push more and more and take my time with him (my third mistake). Pitch was worth the time and care I was giving him, and I wanted to make sure he was enjoying himself (my final mistake). 

As I was describing all of the things I was doing to him, I found myself actively thinking about him. I thought about how his hair (black, thick, and silky… he once spoke of the time he took to take care of it) would feel through my fingers as I grabbed it (I want to grab it; touch it). I thought how his skin (smooth, and cold to the touch… he complained about the cold constantly) would feel under my hands (I want to warm him up with my hands, my body, my lips…). I found myself liking the idea of keeping him comfortable and warm beneath me. 

I imagined the press of my body against his and how my lips would feel as I crashed down on him. Would they feel as cold as the rest of his body? Would they feel soft to the touch, or rough like mine? Pitch is one of those posh types, so I imagined his lips to feel nice and soft. 

I could feel myself biting his lips and tugging at them. I felt myself running my tongue over his teeth, imploring him to graze me with them. As I wrote the words, I pictured myself tracing my tongue over his nipples. I wondered if he would shiver under my touch. Would he like the way my tongue traced the lines of his body. Would he like the way my fingers pressed down on his muscles? Would he start to moan against me and whimper that he wanted more? Would he cry my name into the night as I made him break out from behind that uptight shell he kept himself in?

Ok. I lied. I actually have _ two _ rules. 

1) Don’t fall for the client (pretty fucking important rule that one).

2) Don’t go overboard. If I was starting to get turned on by the interaction, I had to shut it down immediately. I had to make a list of all the things that I was turned off by (undercooked food, my high school history teacher droning on about the glory of the British Empire, bloody  _ centipedes _ ) and focus on those items until the session was over. 

Tonight, I broke both of those rules. 

When Baz (he wanted me to call him Baz.  _ Baz. _ It sounds so lovely in my head. So strong and sharp, just like him) started making those noises (the moaning, the whining, and God, the deep panting), I knew I was well-beyond fucked. I should have ignored those voice messages and calmly deflected. I should have hushed him sweetly and insisted that he didn’t have to say anything to me. I was there to make sure he was satisfied, not the other way around. But I wanted just a few moments with him, believing that we could be more than what we were. 

I chose to play into the fantasy that we created. I chose to believe that I could be more to him than just a distraction. 

So I pushed him further, and continued to tease him slowly. With each audio file he sent, I got more and more excited. My mind filled with images of him running his hands over my chest. I imagined him breathing heavily in my ear, telling me how much he wanted me. I pictured being there with him, in his impossibly cold flat, kissing him deeply. I could hear him moaning into my mouth, and I swear to heaven above that I could have wanked off then and there. 

But Baz needed me to finish. So, my own needs would have to wait (at least until after the session was over… maybe). 

But the fucking arsehole wasn’t making it easy for me. Every few minutes I kept hearing him moaning, and whimpering and panting heavily from my mobile (I’m going to have to delete them from this work mobile, I don’t want anyone else hearing Baz like this). 

Soon enough, I broke character and became myself (my true, unshielded self making his true unshielded self come apart). 

His lovely, smooth, deep voice coming through over the mobile, pleading with me to fuck him. If only he knew how much I wanted to fuck him. How much I wanted to be the only one who got him to this state. How much I wanted to hear his rich, smooth voice calling for me and only me. 

So, I (stupidly) asked him to call me by my real name. I wanted to hear his voice, his beautiful voice, call out my name over and over and over. I wanted to feel that extra bit of closeness to him. 

And Baz… beautiful, wonderful, perfect Baz, made that wish a reality. I think the moment where Baz started crying out my name, was when I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I had to calm my own throbbing ache, and because my mind wanted to continuously fuck my life up, I started to imagine Baz rubbing one out at the same time I was. That only caused me to want him all the more. 

I didn’t finish myself up. I had to make sure Baz was taken care of. I decided that it was time to bring this distraction to a close. I pictured myself holding him close to me and easing my cock into him. I imagined holding his cock in my hand and rubbing him like his life depended on it. Like  _ my _ life depended on it (fuck, it certainly felt that way).

I heard a final ding on my mobile. I was expecting more crying out, and a final satisfied gasp of a well-executed shag. I was not expecting that video. I wondered if he meant to send it. No one had ever sent a video before (clients have to sign an extra form for that kind of thing). My instincts told me to ask him if he meant to send it, and delete it. 

But we had just spent the last hour picking our walls apart and giving into our deepest needs, so this must’ve been sent on purpose. 

If I thought I was ready for whatever he sent me. Christ was I ever mistaken. Baz is… he’s bloody gorgeous and he’s everything I’ve imagined him to be and more. I watched him writhing and arching and gasping for air as I made him come. I watched as he screamed my name and panted. 

Fuck! 

Then he turned to me, his beautiful eyes (grey, like the deepest part of the ocean) half closed, long lashes flirting with me over the screen. His mesmerizing lips smiling sweetly at me (I wanted to kiss him so badly) and his soft voice thanking me. I had to restrain myself from searching every bloody flat in London in order to find him and take him in my arms. 

His long, black hair was spilling over his face, sticking to his temple and cheek. I wanted to gently brush it back and plant a kiss on his content, tired face. I wanted to give him tender kisses along the sharp edges of his cheek bones and his jaw. I wanted to run my thumb over his eyelids and snuggle close to him. He needed to know that I wouldn’t let him go. I was as good as his after tonight. He needed to know that I wouldn’t leave him when the love-making was over. 

I told him he was gorgeous. And I meant it. 

But our session finished and I couldn’t receive his response (if he even sent one). 

Baz was gone, stolen away from me. 

All I have left now are the files he sent to me. The sounds and the video. 

So, I do what any person desperate for affection and closeness would do. 

I listen to the files over and over and over. I listen to them as I take care of my own erection. I listen to them, as the empty feeling in my stomach begins to fill. I answer his moans with those of my own. I cry out his name as he cries for mine. For this moment, we are together, coming as one. 

For this moment, he’s with me and he’s taking care of me this time. His hands are on me. His long, elegant fingers spreading me apart and returning the favor I kindly gave him. 

Pumping in and out and it’s so good… His voice, in my ear. His fingers grasping and pulling. His body, next to mine, shuddering as he enters me again and again. 

When I’m about to come, I watch the video and stare into his beautiful grey eyes. I watch him contort his body and bury his face into his pillow. I gasp and moan along with him and I believe with every fiber of my being that Baz is with me and that we are coming together. And I scream and thrash and I come all over my bed and I want him. 

Fuck. I want him. 

I want to tell him, but he’s gone now. 

I want to hold him in my arms. But I’m alone. 

I want to whisper sweet nothings in his ear, but now that I’ve given him what he wanted, he won’t want to have anything to do with me. And why would he? He’s a smart, funny, bloody gorgeous bloke with the world in front of him. He is an absolute dream and can have anyone he wants. 

He would never want someone like me. 

I broke all my rules tonight, and now I’m paying for it. 

I put my phone down on my night stand and turn away from the mess I’ve made. I feel so tired all of a sudden, but I force myself to get out of bed and clean up.

I lie down on clean sheets and wrap myself in a blanket (I’ll probably kick it off at some point during the night, but right now, I want to feel something hugging me, and this is better than nothing).

I fall asleep with thoughts of Baz breathing softly next to me, wishing that things could be different. 

But they aren’t, and they’ll never be. 

No matter how many times I play the audio over, or stare into his lovely face, the truth hits me like a sword in my chest.

It’ll never be enough. 

* * *

**_Day 13:_ **

**SIMON**

**_Employee #61 (20:45):_ **

_ Are you better today? _

**_Private Number (20:50):_ **

_ I am. Thank you… For… Thank you.  _

**_Employee #61 (20:53):_ **

_ Glad I could help. _

**_Employee #61 (20:54):_ **

_ You know… If you need to, you can talk to me.  _

**_Private Number (20:59):_ **

_ I don’t think that would be wise.  _

**_Employment #61 (21:00):_ **

_ And why not? It wouldn’t be the first time. _

**_Private Number (21:06):_ **

_ Snow… We have one more session together. It isn’t the time to complicate matters.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:06):_ **

_ I’d say that after last night, things are well beyond complicated, mate! _

**_Private Number (21:10):_ **

_ We had an agreement. Fourteen days and then we walk away. We already broke one of our rules last night. _

**_Employee #61 (21:10):_ **

_ And what, you saying you regret it? _

**_Private Number (21:10):_ **

_ Simon… _

**_Employee #61 (21:10):_ **

_ Because I don’t. _

**_Private Number (21:11):_ **

_ It doesn’t matter if I regret it or not. It’s over after tomorrow.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:12):_ **

_ It doesn’t have to end after tomorrow. _

**_Private Number (21:13):_ **

_ That’s where you’re wrong. The very foundation of this relationship is a sham! We’ve never met, never seen each other face-to-face. I’m your bloody client, for God’s sake! _

**_Employee #61 (21:15):_ **

_ You really think the last couple of weeks have not been real? Do you really only see yourself as my client? That I’m only providing a service to you? _

**_Employee #61 (21:20):_ **

_ Baz… _

**_Employee #61 (21:27):_ **

_ Don’t ignore me just because you don’t want to deal with the questions I’m asking you! _

**_Employee #61 (21:30):_ **

_ BAZ! _

**_Employee #61 (21:31):_ **

_ You bloody arsehole! Answer me! _

**_Employee #61 (21:34):_ **

_ Fine! If you want to be a miserable tosser, by all means, go ahead! But don’t pretend that last night was nothing. You aren’t the type to send videos of yourself mid-orgasm to just anyone.  _

**_Private Number (21:35):_ **

_ What. Video?! _

**_Employee #61 (21:35):_ **

_ The… video… The one of you climaxing? _

**_Private Number (21:36):_ **

_ No… I sent an audio file! It was an audio file.  _

**_Employee # 61 (21:36):_ **

_ Baz. Stop being a prick. You must have known about the video. _

**_Private Number (21:37):_ **

_ I assure you, I do not! What video?! _

**_Employee #61 (21:40):_ **

_ *video file sent* _

**_Employee #61 (21:40):_ **

_ That video. Jog your memory? _

**_Employee #61 (21:43):_ **

_ You… did know about the video? Right? _

**_Employee #61 (21:44):_ **

_ Baz?  _

**_Employee #61 (21:44):_ **

_ Baz? Are you alright? _

**_Employee #61 (21:44):_ **

_ Baz… Please say something. _

**_Employee #61 (21:45):_ **

_ Anything.  _

**_Employee #61 (21:45):_ **

_ Fuck… I’m sorry… I didn’t know... I just thought... Fuck.  _  
  


* * *

**_Day 14:_ **

**BAZ**

**_Unknown Number (20:45):_ **

_ You don’t have to answer me. I’m just letting you know that we don’t have to chat today. I don’t need the money for this last session that badly. We can let the time run out and be done with it.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:50):_ **

_ Slacking off on the last day? I expected better from you.  _

**_Unknown Number (20:50):_ **

_ Baz! I’m so fucking sorry! I thought you knew… I thought… _

**_Unknown Number (20:50):_ **

_ I’m so sorry… Are you alright? _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:51):_ **

_ I needed to have an emergency session with my therapist last night AND take an Ativan to calm down… But I’m alright.  _

**_Unknown Number (20:51):_ **

_ Your therapist is available at 9:00 in the evening? _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:52):_ **

_ I pay him very well. He makes himself available.  _

**_Unknown Number (20:52):_ **

_ Fucking lovely… _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:53):_ **

_ But I shouldn’t have ignored you the first time. You were right. I was avoiding your questions.  _

**_Unknown Number (20:53):_ **

_ Baz… You don’t have to justify anything. I’ve been doing some thinking.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:54):_ **

_ Shocker of the century. _

**_Unknown Number (20:54):_ **

_ Could you not? This is our last session. I’d rather not spend it listening to you being a prat.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:55):_ **

_ Fine. What is it, Snow? _

**_Unknown Number (20:56):_ **

_ You were right yesterday. This whole thing has become too complicated.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (20:58):_ **

_ Oh… Right... It has, hasn’t it? _

**_Unknown Number (21:00):_ **

_ Maybe it would be best if we said goodbye after this session and carried on with our lives, yeah? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:05):_ **

_ Of course. This was supposed to be a casual relationship, after all. And besides, I’m just a client. _

**_Unknown Number (21:10):_ **

_ You arsehole… Don’t be like that! You suggested it yesterday. _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:15):_ **

_ No, you’re right, Snow. _

**_Unknown Number (21:20):_ **

_ I wish I wasn’t! I wish… _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:20):_ **

_ It doesn’t matter now.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:21):_ **

_ Ugh! Can you just listen?! _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:22):_ **

_ To what? _

**_Unknown Number (21:25):_ **

_ It’s better this way! We’ve made things far too complicated between us! This thing between us… It should have been kept professional. We both crossed a line….  _

**_Unknown Number (21:30):_ **

_ Baz? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:31):_ **

_ Here. _

**_Unknown Number (21:31):_ **

_ Say something.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:35)_ **

_ As much as I’d hate to admit it. You’re right. This has gotten far too complicated. We agreed to cease communication after tonight. It was my final rule. I’d rather we didn’t leave on a bitter note.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:37):_ **

_ Who knows? Maybe we’ll run into each other… _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:40):_ **

_ Stranger things have happened. I expect a perfected scone recipe if that ever happens.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:41):_ **

_ Only the best for you, Pitch. _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:42):_ **

_ I do deserve only the best, now don’t I? _

**_Unknown Number (21:44):_ **

_ I’ll miss you.  _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:44):_ **

_ I’ll miss you too. _

**_Unknown Number (21:45):_ **

_ I suppose this is goodbye then? _

**_Basilton Pitch (21:45):_ **

_ I suppose it is… Goodbye, Simon.  _

**_Unknown Number (21:45):_ **

_ Goodbye, Baz.  _

**_(X) Basilton Pitch (21:50) (NOT DELIVERED):_ **

_ And here I am, baring my heart when you cannot see me. I was never strong enough to face you head on. You’re amazing, Simon. You’re so full of light and energy, and you frustrate me to no end. But you also lit up my world, when all I felt around me was darkness. I’ve revealed more of myself to you than anyone else in my life. I wish things could be different. I wish we could say “fuck it” and take the leap. I wish I could look you in the eye and tell you how much I’m going to miss you, and that frankly, I think I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with you. But we’re here, and our time is up. I’m sorry, Simon. I hope you find happiness.  _

_ Automated message (21:50): Your session for this evening has reached its hour limit. Thank you for your business. _

* * *

  
  


**_2 Weeks Later:_ **

**SIMON**

I’m so nervous. 

Agatha forced me to go with her to get a manicure, just on the idea that it would most likely prevent me from picking at my cuticles (fat load of good that did, I still found a way to pick at the hangnails). 

I shouldn’t be so nervous. I got the job, I passed the tough interview process (through the skin of my teeth, and based on my skills in the kitchen and not from my ability to handle an actual interview). All that was left was show up and try to not fuck up too badly. 

I’ve always been like this. Nervous at the beginning of something new. I suppose that’s very true in this case; starting a new job and down a new (and unplanned) career path. 

Still, I just want this to work out. I want something in my life to work out (God knows this last month has been a whirlwind). Penny was the one who pushed me to apply for this job. I honestly didn’t think I was qualified enough. It’s for a food-centered magazine, and they cover a wide range of topics from recipes, to drinks, to restaurant reviews. They needed to hire a few people to test out new recipes and improve older ones. The biggest requirement was that applicants have a basic understanding of food preparation, and that they have a passion for food and cooking (something I excelled in). 

When I got the interview, Agatha insisted on helping to prepare me for the interview (dressing appropriately). It’s maybe odd to have your ex-girlfriend helping to prep you for an interview, but we were always better as friends anyway. And I didn’t really have anyone else who could help me with this.

The only other person who knew and cared about fashion as much as Agatha did, was Baz. I remember a conversation we had where he spoke great lengths about his love for fashion. He called it a guilty little pleasure, but it made him feel good to wear the clothes he wore. He told me that it gave him a little bit of confidence to get through the day (not that he needed any more confidence).

Baz, with his sharp wit and impeccable taste, probably would have insisted I buy the most expensive items in whatever store we went to (probably a high-end posh store that only allows you to come in by appointment). I could hear him now  _ “You can’t put a price on quality, Snow.” _ and I would roll my eyes, and give him hell for being needlessly extravagant.

Baz… whom I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the last couple of weeks. Since our last conversation. We agreed to let the communication cease for the better, but the moment I logged off for the final time, I started to feel the regret of my decision. 

I’d leave my flat, wondering if I’d see him. Either on the street, in the park, or even on the tube. Every time a tall bloke with dark hair passed my way, I’d feel my heart skip a beat. Is this one him? Have I found him? 

It never was. 

No matter how I tried to push him out of my mind, it didn't work. He was stuck there. Penny and Agatha both took note of my sour mood and tried to distract me with outings and activities. I know I worried them, I worried myself. I thought I was starting to lose it. On the day of the interview, I saw a bloke that looked  _ identical _ to the Baz I remembered seeing (in that video). Tall, dark hair, copper-red skin, and a fashion sense that could put any model to shame. I only saw him for a half a second, out of the corner of my eye. Once again, my heart had started beating rapidly in my chest and I felt my body humming with the familiar electricity I would feel whenever I would message him. My body wanted to chase him and talk to him, but my brain told me that it was most likely not him (it was never him). 

So I ignored the man and made it to my interview. 

Now, as I enter the building, I think about that man once more. Would I see him again? What if it was him? Doesn’t this building rent offices to a publishing house? What if that was the same publishing house that Baz worked at?

I arrive at the lift, but a large crowd has gathered in front. I sigh to myself, resigned to wait a couple of turns to take it (I’m not a fan of being crowded in tight spaces). My mind is too busy racing with thoughts of my new job, the bloke from the building, and of Baz (always of Baz), that I almost miss the man coming to stand beside me, waiting for the lift to clear up. 

I take a good look at him and my face flushes. It’s  _ him! _ The bloke from the day of my interview. I’m having trouble containing my breathing, as I look at him. God, he looks  _ exactly _ like Baz! His dark hair is neatly arranged in a tight bun gathered at the base of his neck. A few strands of hair frame his sharp face. A pair of fancy sunglasses (Ray-Bans?) are perched on his head. I try not to stare at him, but it is so bloody difficult. I look at him, and I think about the face Baz made as he climaxed. The way his eyes closed as he shuddered. I think of Baz and I see this man. He turns to me and cocks an elegant eyebrow, as if to question my gall to stare at him. I quickly look away, but I can feel sweat pooling in the lower part of my back. 

It can’t be him. Life doesn’t work that way. We had our chance to start something, and we missed it. You never get a second chance when it comes to things like this. Opportunities and people like Baz come once in a lifetime, and you either grab them and never let go, or you ignore the signs and carry on. This is a regular bloke who just happens to be a doppelganger (a very convincing doppelganger) (and don’t we all have at least one doppelganger in this world, maybe this is Baz’s). 

I force my mind to focus on my new job when his mobile rings. I nearly pass out when he answers the phone in that smooth, eloquent voice (the very same one that screamed and moaned my name). 

“This is Baz Pitch.”

Baz…  _ Baz! _

It’s him! It’s actually him!

I stare at him, mouth agape, and eyes wide in shock. I start to panic, wondering what I should do (there are many things I want to do). He talks on the phone, smooth, collected voice giving out orders to hold this press release and to move forward with limited publishing of a special edition collection, and to cancel the publication of another book entirely. 

Baz… Smart, clever, gorgeous Baz. He’s here, in the same building where I work. He’s really here. 

We finally board the lift. I press the button for the 25th floor, he hangs up the phone and presses the button for the 30th. I pray no one follows us into the lift. I’m not sure what exactly I plan on doing, but I know I want to be alone with Baz when I plan on doing it. The doors close and we start to ascend. 

_ 1… _

  
  
  


_ 2… _

  
  
  


_ 3… _

  
  


Baz is here, with me, in this small enclosed space. I need to say something, right? I should say something to him. 

_ 4… _

  
  
  


_ 5… _

  
  
  


_ 6… _

  
  
  


What if he pretends nothing happened between us? Why would he bother with someone like me? He said it was best for us both if we moved on with our lives. He didn’t want to have anything to do with me, so why should I bother saying anything?

_ 7… _

  
  
  


_ 8… _

  
  
  


_ 9… _

  
  
  


_ 10… _

  
  


But I can’t let this go. He’s here. With me! After two weeks of going mental thinking about him and replaying the video and audio files in my head, I finally have him with me. How could I risk walking away from a second chance? They NEVER happen! You get one chance at a love like this (or the possibility for a love like this). Before today, I thought our chance had come and gone.

_ 11… _

  
  
  
  


_ 12… _

  
  
  


_ 13… _

  
  
  


_ 14… _

  
  


But Baz and I have been given a second chance. I can’t say no to it. I can’t be the one responsible for walking away a second time. I need to know if there’s anything here, now that we’re free from the awful contract and awkward relationship we were forced to have. 

_ 15… _

  
  
  


_ 16… _

  
  
  


_ 17… _

  
  
  


_ 18… _

  
  
  


I turn to him and clear my throat. It’s now or never. 

“So, it turns out, that the way you get scones to be nice and soft is to use cold butter. Using melted butter won’t have the same effect.” I bring up a topic that was a constant in our conversations. My endless quest to bake the perfect scone. 

Baz whips his head towards me, and all my doubts about him are cast aside. His severe gray eyes have turned soft and hopeful while looking at me. His mouth opens just slightly. 

_ 19… _

  
  
  


_ 20... _

  
  
  


“Simon…” He whispers, and it’s in a voice so longing, so wistful, that I don’t think. I press (practically punch) the emergency stop button and push him against a wall of the elevator. My lips crash into his. 

I momentarily think this was a stupid idea, but then I feel him kissing me back, returning my hunger and need with that of his own. One of my hands trails up to the back of his neck, messing up his perfect bun, the other slipping into his jacket towards his lower back. His hands reach up and cup my face and he presses deeper and deeper into me. 

I start to lightly nibble on his bottom lip and he moans. He moans and it’s the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. I sigh in his mouth and whisper his name over and over.

“Baz… Baz… Baz...”

The elevator gives a rough jolt knocking the emergency stop and we’re going up once again. We break apart and just stare into each other's eyes. Baz gently caresses the side of my face and I lean in against his cool palm. 

_ 21… _

  
  
  


_ 22… _

  
  
  


“Simon. What… What are you doing here?”

“I work here. In the Buon Gusto Magazine office.”

“You left... “

“After our last conversation.”

“And cooking school…?”

“I now work at a food-based magazine. I don’t think they’ll have any issues with me going to culinary school.”

“I just… I can’t believe it... “

“I know… Me neither.”

_ 23… _

  
  
  


_ 24… _

  
  
  


There’s so much more I want to say to him. So much more I want him to say to me. But our time is short, and I need to leave an opening for him. So I reach into my shoulder bag and pull out my small notebook (the one I keep handy if cooking inspiration hits me). I quickly scribble my number and fold it into his hands. 

“Unfortunately, our session has to end here, but if you would like to continue this, please,  _ please _ text me, won’t you?”

_ 25. _

I give him a quick peck on his cheek as the doors open. I flash him a smile as I exit the lift. Baz cocks an eyebrow at me and returns a cool one of his own. I see him pull out his mobile as the doors close. 

  
  


I’m setting up my new workstation when I hear a small vibration coming from my mobile. Although the staff is pretty lax when it comes to mobile usage, I don’t want to push my luck on the first day. I quickly check my message and a smile creeps over my face. 

**_(020) 7**4 1**4 (8:45):_ **

_ In all honesty, the “sessions” were rather rubbish. I feel like I’m owed an extra one (or several) as compensation. How about one this Friday, after we’re both off work?  _

**_Simon Snow (10:06):_ **

_ Yeah. I think I can manage that. It’s the least I can do, after all.  _

In my heart, I’ve always believed in second chances. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first brand new published fic since taking a small break from the bulk of social media (though, I stayed active on Twitter). I'm very proud of it, and I hope you enjoyed it. :)
> 
> I'm getting better and I'm slowly interacting with people again. Thank you to everyone who's been encouraging me and sending sweet messages. I see you, I appreciate you and I'm gonna acknowledge you. I send you all love and positive vibes (God knows, we all need them right now). 
> 
> Also, stay healthy and wash your hands! Stay safe out there, loves!


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